


Crime Ball

by siephilde42



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dancing, Don't copy to another site, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 07:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21442177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siephilde42/pseuds/siephilde42
Summary: At a police ball, it is discovered that Moriarty was right in one aspect
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	Crime Ball

**Author's Note:**

> That is a short one-shot I wrote for myself before finding my writing flow again because of Good Omens, so expect it to be more awkward and rustier than my other works. I hope some of you enjoy it all the same.

"Would you like to...", he began, hesitantly.

Watson gave him a side glance, distracted by his conversation with Greg Lestrade. "Yes?"

"Uh", Sherlock said, swallowing hard. "Would you like to, to, … would you like to have a drink?", he blurted out.

This time, his tone caught Watson‘s attention, and his assistant looked directly at him, with a frowning, puzzled face. _That‘s untypical. Him behaving like that. "_Er, why not. I mean, you are not planning to do a chemical experiment on me again, are you?"

Sherlock felt himself blushing. "Uh, certainly not. … Just, just trying to be nice."

Watson‘s expression was unreadable. "Hmm. How about a Martini, then?"

"Uh, okay. Martini it is, then. Got it.", he replied and retracted hastily, making a bee line for the bar.

Molly Hooper, who had stood beside Lestrade, excused herself. "Well, now that I think about it, I‘m thirsty too. Be back in one moment."

Sherlock sat down on a stool, briefly waiting for a drunk policemen couple to wrap up their orders. After them having ordered a straight vodka each which they would regret in the morning, he got the order in and slumped back in his seat. _Damn it. Just how stupid am I? Why didn‘t I…_

His thoughts were interrupted by Molly‘s voice. "Why didn‘t you?"

"I‘m sorry, what?"

"Why didn‘t you ask the question you meant to ask? 'Would you like to...?' I mean, there is no way that you just wanted to ask him if you could fetch a drink."

"What… what do you mean?"

"Oh, just cut it. You began the question, then you paused and started again. It certainly sounded as if you re-formulated it mid-sentence."

"I...", he stammered.

"We are at a ball, after all. Are you sure that you didn‘t want to ask him to..."

For a brief instant, his throat felt tight and as if swollen. But almost instantaneously, this reaction morphed into anger. "You… just shut up", he said very quietly, in a low, dangerous voice.

"But… I only wanted to...", she tried to defend herself.

"Molly, SHUT - THE FUCK – UP!" _Uh-oh. I just screamed this on top of my lungs, didn‘t I?_

Well, according to all the turned heads, this assessment was quite correct. Additionally, he obviously had jumped up from his stool, clenching his hands.

_Damn it._

"All right over there? I heard you screaming, even from the middle of the room", Watson said with a concerned expression, appearing at the bar.

_Short breaths, Sherlock, you idiot. "_Uh, yes, everything is fine. I, I just, I overreacted to something she said."

John Watson shot disbelieving glances from Sherlock to Molly and back to the detective. "Overreacting to something Molly Hooper said? Just doesn‘t seem like you."

There was this tightening feeling again. "Don‘t ask, John", he said in a voice as neutral as manageable. "You don‘t want to know."

Confusion mixed with the disbelief on Watson‘s face. "Well, I assume you also won‘t answer the question why I don‘t want to know."

Tighter and tighter. "No, I won‘t. I … well, your Martini is here, it seems", he determined in a seemingly calm manner and waved at the cocktail resting on the bar. He straightened and pointed in the direction of the location‘s terrace. "If you would excuse me, I need some fresh air. … I‘m terribly sorry that I shouted at you, Molly. So sorry", he forced himself to say.

Just before he could get wholly away, he heard Watson‘s voice. "Where is yours?"

"P... pardon?", he answered and half-turned on his heel, his body language clearly conveying that he longed to be outside.

"You know, when you asked if you could bring me a drink, I assumed that you were fetching one for yourself as well. I‘m not seeing a drink."

"I, ah, uh … I noticed I wasn‘t that thirsty, to be honest", he retorted and fled.

When Holmes was out of earshot, John turned to Molly with a quizzical look. "What the hell was that all about? Care to explain?"

Molly went through all possibilities very fast. Should she tell him? Pushing Sherlock was one thing, but taking things in her own hands… And it could fail miserably.

Before she could make up her mind, the barkeeper answered. "It seems the world‘s only consulting detective is madly in love with you, Dr. Watson."

"What? What gives you the idea?", John asked, in shock.

The barkeep chuckled.

"Two – actually, three, no four things", he said. "One, it seems as if he asked a question and paused in the middle, which could mean that he wanted to ask something else entirely. This being the 'Crime Ball', the question 'Would you like to…' could also be completed with 'to dance?' It would seem pretty straightforward, no?"

John stared at him, considering to speak up, but not doing such thing.

"Two, he was very upset when Molly here suggested exactly this, what could be a hint that it‘s true. If it were not true, he could just say so, no?" He waved at John. "Three, as you pointed out, he didn‘t get a cocktail for himself."

Slowly, John regained his countenance. "And four? You mentioned four things."

"Four… You actually uploaded Sherlock‘s speech from your wedding to your blog, remember? I‘m assuming you did that because he referred to several cases in his talk and you thought it would fit well with your case descriptions."

"Yeah, sure, I uploaded it. So you are one of my blog readers, big deal. This anything to do with your argumentation?", John grimaced.

The barkeep smiled. "Oh, yes. He told you, that he loved you, you know. Right there, at your wedding."

"What? No, I would surely remember...", he began, stopping with a sudden realisation. _He is right. Sherlock did that. _

"Hidden in plain sight, or not so hidden in plain sight…", the barkeep commented.

John drew a deep breath.

"'Here stand the two people in the world who love you the most', he said, didn‘t he? Or something like this", the barkeeper quoted.

John said nothing, but kept listening, looking intensely at the barkeeper.

"So, what else do you want him to do? Wrap himself in a banner saying that he loves you? I mean, it is a pretty clear deduction, isn‘t it?"

He felt numb, unable to reply anything. _Why didn‘t I notice?_

The barkeeper cleared his throat. "Well, all I want to say is, if you don‘t appreciate these feelings, you need to do nothing. From what I have read, your friendship has probably been much more than Sherlock Holmes would ever have hoped for."

A piece of dialogue from Devon flashed briefly before John‘s mind, causing a sharp pang in his chest. _"I don‘t have friends. I have exactly one."_

"So, he probably won‘t have the courage to alter something about this, not after the embarrassment tonight. But if there is any chance of you appreciating these feelings, well … you should talk with him about it."

John kept staring, his eyes seemingly looking straight through the barkeeper.

"Er, I‘m done with my deduction here. Can I do anything else for you?", the barkeeper asked, not sure what to do about Watson‘s strange behaviour.

Slowly, John Watson came back to life, putting on an awkward smile. "Now, did you see where exactly he went?"

"Towards the east balcony, I think", the barkeep replied.

"Thank you."

*

Holmes was cowering, back pressed against the balustrade, in an almost-fetal position.

"Sherlock."

Holmes did not even look up. With a sigh, Watson went to the balustrade, just beside Holmes and laid his arms down on it. "Nice view."

"Seriously? It‘s just a dark park with some lights."

"Well, I like it. Conveys a solemn impression, somehow."

"If you think so", Holmes replied.

For a while, neither of them said anything.

At last, Watson said "Sherlock, look… I asked Molly what this just now was about. And..."

_Did she tell him? I‘m going to kill her. _

"Well, she didn‘t actually tell me anything. But, um, the barkeeper did."

_Okay, then I‘m killing the barkeeper instead, I suppose. _

"So, uh, I… The barkeeper had a theory about you. That is, about your feelings for me."

"Is that so?", Holmes replied. "He should stick to pouring drinks instead of getting on the nerves of his patrons." His voice seemed to be made out of ice.

"You don‘t want to know what his theory was?"

"What would be the point of this?", he replied coldly.

"Well, we could talk about it."

"The hell we could. I would like to be left alone, actually." Holmes looked up at him, crossing his arms defensively. "Can you just leave me in peace for some minutes?"

Watson sighed again. "Sherlock, can I tell you something? Then I‘ll leave. I won‘t ask you any questions, I promise."

"Well, I don‘t have much choice, have I?", asked Holmes.

"Well," John began, "you remember Sergeant Walker?"

"Rachel Walker, the one Donovan tried to help you hook up with? Sure I remember."

"Look, you saw it. You just didn‘t hear the dialogue."

"That awkward exchange at the corridor of the station? I‘ll wager everybody of the police station saw that."

"The thing is, I told you that she rejected me."

"Yes, very bad luck for you. What were the chances she would hook up right after he separation from her cheating husband?"

"That‘s just the thing. I... I sort of lied about that. I actually decided that it was a bad idea to ask her out, even before she told me that she was now in love with her best friend. I changed my mind while walking up to her. Which made for an quite embarrassing conversation in which I explained that I didn‘t want to ask her out anymore."

"Now… I‘m mildly confused", Sherlock admitted.

"It just didn‘t feel right."

"Why not? She seems smart, driven and obviously has the physical features you find attractive in women. I mean, you bugged Donovan for her intervention several times."

"Yes, I did. And yet, I felt I shouldn‘t do it."

"Okay. Of course, if you felt that you wouldn‘t make a good match, you don‘t need to explain it. It is what it is."

"You don‘t understand what I‘m trying to say. It was not about thinking that it wouldn‘t be a good match. I just suddenly didn‘t feel like it anymore."

"That what you wanted to tell me about? Some random change of mind? What am I supposed to say?"

"You don‘t need to say anything. I was confused myself about my abrupt change of mind, you see. I thought about it for some weeks. Asked myself if there was someone I would rather be with."

"And, is there? Not that it would matter much, after Sergeant Walker hooking up with her best friend."

"I‘m not sure."

"You‘re not sure? I‘m sorry to say that, but somehow the things you‘re telling me do not contain a lot of information."

"Would it hurt you to not be sarcastic?"

"Yeah, fine. I‘m sorry."

John gave him a hard, long look. "Anyway", he continued, "it‘s complicated. There is someone I do feel a certain bond with."

"You‘re being vague again", Sherlock interjected.

"Could you just listen, for once?", John asked in frustration.

"Sorry. So, your bond to that person?", Sherlock said, staring at the curtained windows of the ball room.

"Has been platonic so far. It‘s great as it is. But sometimes, I‘m wondering if it could be something other than platonic."

"I see. Why don‘t you tell her, then?"

John groaned. "I‘m sorry. Who should this woman be? I mean, what do you think who it is?"

"Huh. No idea. Maybe Mycroft‘s assistant 'Anthea'? I mean, I don't see any romantic potential between you and other current female acquaintances of yours."

"I have not seen 'Anthea' since last year. Why would I suddenly want a relationship with her? What does it tell you that you have no clue which woman it is?" John spoke overemphasised and very slowly, as if that would help Sherlock understanding better.

Sherlock looked at him blankly.

_I‘m missing something. What am I missing?_

"You bet you‘re missing something."

_I thought aloud again. What a cumbersome habit. _

"I‘m at a loss here. What are you trying to tell me?", asked Sherlock.

"Did I say anything about a woman?", John replied.

"No, _I _said that. Naturally, I assumed...", his voice trailed off. "I don‘t understand. If you‘re not speaking about a woman..."

"...there is only one logical deduction, isn‘t it?"

"Are you saying..."

"Yes. Yes, that‘s exactly what I‘m saying."

Both of them fell silent.

_Say something. I have to say something. But I don‘t know what to say. _"John, I...", he started to say. "I...", he broke off.

Watson smiled down on him. "That being said, would you like to have a dance?" When Holmes stayed silent, he frowned and added "Of course, if you need more time to make up your mind, that‘s okay. You don‘t need to decide today. You..."

Sherlock interrupted him and jumped up. "More time? It has been seven years. Seven years, eight months and twenty-seven days since we met at the mortuary."

Watson chuckled. "So you do want to dance?"

"That would be a correct deduction, yes."

*

"Do you want a song?", John asked. "I could go over and ask for one."

Of course, almost everyone was staring at them, but Watson found it bothered him less than he would have thought.

"Uh, since you‘re asking, how about 'Here comes the sun?'"

"So there is space in your mind palace for the Beatles after all?", he chuckled.

Sherlock bent down to him and whispered in a conspiratorial tone: "To be honest, there is a room in the palace just dedicated to them."

THE END  
(at least for the readers)


End file.
